


The Trees and the Space Between the Trees

by bending_sickle



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 13:14:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2271060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bending_sickle/pseuds/bending_sickle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thranduil is upset and Thorin is having none of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Trees and the Space Between the Trees

**Author's Note:**

  * For [heartofstanding](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartofstanding/gifts).



> Title from Richard Siken's _Snow and Dirty Rain_
> 
> Fill for a prompt from heartofstanding (Thranduil/Thorin – “Stop trying to cheer me up!”). Set in the same AU as _In the Absence of Dragons_.

“Come now,” said Thorin, clapping a hand to Thranduil’s back.  “A song mayhap?”

Thranduil stared out of his window at the forest below. “I’m in no mood for song.”

“A dance, then!” Thorin’s voice was irritatingly cheerful. “You elves are always up for one.”

Thranduil turned to glare at Thorin. “What in the name of your long line of foolish ancestors makes you think I care for a dance?”

Thorin’s expression sobered immediately. “I’ll not have you call my ancestors foolish.”

“Then don’t goad me into merriment, or I’ll be calling _you_ foolish next.”

“You’re the foolish one,” said Thorin. His voice and face were still as somber as stone, but there was a twinkle in his eye.

“Indeed?” Thranduil tore himself from the sight of his forest and stared down at Thorin.

“Indeed,” insisted Thorin.  “To stand at a window and moon over your trees like some fretful mother —-”

“I am _not_ mooning —-“

“—-wailing at the first hint of a grazed knee,” finished Thorin. “It’s not that bad, Thranduil.”

“Not that —- have you _seen_ my kingdom?”  Thranduil swept an arm towards his forest.  “Or are you blind to the pain it is in?”

Thorin huffed.  “It’s just a drought.”

“ _Just_ a drought?” Thranduil gave a pained laugh.  Thorin started at the sound, then took a step forward, hands reaching out in appeasement.  Thranduil turned from him and covered his face with his hands, as if to blot out the sight he’d been aching over for near an hour.  “You are indeed blind.”

From behind his hands, Thranduil felt a soft tug at his sleeve.  “Thranduil.”  Thorin curled warm hands around his wrist.  Thranduil let him pull his hands from his face.  At last, he thought. There, finally, was a concern on Thorin’s face that matched his own.  It made the dwarf seem so much older.  “I am not blind,” said Thorin. “Not to your pain.”

“The forest —-” began Thranduil, but Thorin took him by the shoulders, teetering on his toes to reach so high.

“The forest, my friend, will recover. It will endure this drought, as it has many, and you will wear green in your crown once more.”

Thranduil searched Thorin’s eyes, trying to take the comfort he offered.  “You know nothing of forests.”

“Aye, but I know the rains. I’ve been drenched enough by them during my travels to know they will return.”  Thranduil smiled at that, and Thorin saw his chance. “Now, how about that song?”


End file.
